A/N

Your feedback and comments made my day(s) 😊Thanks so much you good people at FF.

Many of you have suggested possibilities of what might happen as we go along - all I can say is it's a good thing I am not writing a mystery πŸ˜‰

So here is chapter 3 ... and the fracas with Miss Bingley. There were many possibilities for this interaction, but this is what came to my mind...

I do hope you all enjoy... Please feel free to mention your thoughts... my eyes, ears, and mind (most of the times 😊) is quite open to criticism and suggestions.

To Lisa – As always, thank you!

These three chapters were already partly in the works when I started posting... now onwards everything is from scratch so it might take a little more time to post the chapters. Also, I want to keep this a short novella length story (10-12 chapters)...but brevity is not usually my strong point. so, let's see how it goes. Finally, once I finish posting, I remove the story for publication so please keep that also in mind, thank you.

A Little Magic Chapter 3

For some time after he started his ride back to Netherfield, Darcy's heart remained captivated by the warm smile that Miss Elizabeth had bestowed on him and the adorably confused look on her face in response to his own. 'There was such a look of approbation in her eyes and... and she likes my smile,' his heart sang while his mind resolutely ignored the fact that she also appeared to dislike him and believed that his gentlemanly behaviour was some kind of an aberration.

Soon, however, he forced his attention towards practicalities - he now had the unenviable task of preventing Miss Bingley from decamping to London on the morrow. He did not believe that he could appeal to her better side - for he was not even sure if she actually possessed one. After pondering over the matter for a while, he admitted that the only way to achieve his ends was to provide Bingley's headstrong sister with a fait accompli. With that aim in mind, he brought Poseidon to a halt near a puddle of dirt and rainwater on an empty stretch of road. He got down and went about smearing some dirt on his breeches - in a manner that he hoped would best indicate that he had suffered a fall from his horse. 'Really, Darcy, is this the best you could contrive?' he asked himself as he looked at his soiled hands with a grimace of distaste. But then, he knew that Miss Bingley always demonstrated excessive concern for his wellbeing – often to the extent of annoyance. She would hardly expect him - with his injured foot and limited mobility - to spend hours cooped up in a carriage tomorrow, he decided hopefully.

He wiped his hands as best as he could and got back on Poseidon. Suddenly, the incongruity of his actions struck him hard. He could not imagine that before today, he would have ever considered doling out advice on marital prospects to a buffoonish stranger or pretended to suffer an injury like a naughty child! At least, not under normal circumstances. 'But then, the sudden acquisition of the ability to listen to other people's thoughts could hardly be considered 'normal circumstances',' he thought with a wry quirk of his lips. He knew that he had involved himself in this charade only for Miss Elizabeth. For some inexplicable reason, he could not bear the thought of her distress. But - if he was honest with himself, then a glimpse into Miss Bennet's hopes, Mrs Bennet's fears, and Mr Bennet's distress also were now partially responsible for his uncharacteristic conduct. It had been discomfiting to realize that his actions could have so effortlessly blighted Miss Bennet's happiness. As discomfiting as the realization that this mystical ability provided him unimaginable power over those whose thoughts he could hear surreptitiously. He did not know whether it was correct for him to meddle in the affairs of the Bennets or if any good would come of it. But now that he had been bestowed with this strange power, he could not - in good conscience - sit twiddling his thumbs. Especially when he knew that his inaction would result in the unhappiness of several people, including the woman he did not love and a man who most probably was at death's door. 'There has to be a purpose behind why I should start hearing everyone's musings out of the blue.' Having convinced himself of the correctness of his course of action, he urged Poseidon to move faster - impatient now to tackle Caroline Bingley. The irony of him doing all of this for a young woman who appeared to dislike him (and whom he did not love) did not escape him. Notwithstanding that, he was eager to make amends – to change her opinion of him and earn some more of those delightful smiles for himself. What would he do once Miss Elizabeth started to look more kindly on him? Well - his mind was too busy with the present to dwell too much into the future.

~~~Β§~~~

He remembered to feign a stumble when he dismounted Poseidon at Netherfield. The head groom, John, standing just outside the stable block, rushed forward to help him.

"Careful now, Guvnor," he exclaimed.

Activating his plan to convince Miss Bingley to defer their journey to London, Darcy took the offered support with alacrity. John was no longer a young man, but his wiry strength impressed Darcy as he leaned heavily on to the other man.

"Easy..." John mumbled as he effortlessly took Darcy's weight on himself.

Falling off his horse while out on a morning ride was not something Darcy was known for and, to his chagrin, he found he could not help explaining his predicament to the other man. "Poseidon was spooked by a rabbit – unfortunately near a large pothole – and by the time the poor fellow had got his footing back, I had already taken a tumble," he told John as he looked sideways at him.

"'appen," came the monosyllabic response from John. "If that wunnerful 'orse lost his footin' then I's the king of England. Ha! More like ye was sloshed after last night's partyin' and didna see where ye were going! And 'ere I always thought ye was a serious-minded young man... but one never knows wif gentry. What ye need, me lad, is a good lass... like me Beth...t' keep ye on the straight an' narra..."

Darcy's eyebrows reached his hairline as he listened to the other man's musings. It amused him that John had more faith in the animal than his fellow being – as was often the case with people who spent most of their times with horses. He was further entertained to discover the irreverent man behind the taciturn and respectful exterior. 'Even father was not this severe with me,' he grinned to himself as he recollected the groom's disproportionate disappointment with his lone supposed transgression in more than two months! Unfortunately, he could not respond to the groom as he wanted. By that time, they had reached the front door, and a footman came dashing out. John related the problem to him as succinctly as he usually conversed with everyone. "'orse trouble. Guv 'ere took a toss and 'urt 'isself."

The footman nodded with a suitably sympathetic expression. "How unfortunate," he said as he took John's place in order to help Darcy inside the house. "You don't know nothing, John Smith, nothing. Had the two harpies screeched at you - right after you had tucked in your breakfast - even you would have had horse trouble! Poor Mr Darcy. I don't know about him, but all that yowling sure curdled my breakfast and I was not even inside the room."

Darcy suppressed a chuckle with difficulty. Ideally, he should have been dismayed at the disrespectful tones of the footman – Matthew. However, he could not bring himself to feel anything but amusement at the footman's most accurate, if impudent interpretation of the events. While he did not know how his breakfast had fared, but he had to admit that it was the sisters' harangue that had sent him scurrying out for a ride this morning. By the time Darcy got his amusement under control, Matthew had assisted him to the door of Miss Bingley's morning parlour.

Although he desperately wanted to go to his chambers and get into some clean clothes, but he also believed that it would be easier to convince Miss Bingley if she observed his sorry condition firsthand. 'Best to get it over with at the earliest,' he thought and turned to request Matthew to send his valet, Banes, to him. Right at that moment the door to the parlour opened and a maid came out, carrying a tray. She gave Darcy a swift curtsey and hurried past them with her head bent respectfully.

"Such indifference - it will one day kill me, Polly. Oh, when will you look at me and give me a smile from those red, red li..."

Darcy's eyes widened as he hurriedly looked away from Matthew. Amorous musings of lovelorn footmen were not something he believed he was capable of appreciating - not at the moment at least! "... Or ever," he muttered, not knowing there was much worse waiting for him inside the parlour.

"You said something, Mr Darcy?"

"Ah, yes... Matthew, isn't it? Once you assist me to a chair, will you please send Banes to me?"

"Of cou..."

"Good Lord! Whatever happened to you, Mr Darcy?" Miss Bingley asked, her eyes swiftly taking in his bedraggled appearance.

Darcy winced at the discordant noise but was pleased to note the concern Miss Bingley appeared to be evincing for his supposed injuries. 'Perhaps it would not be difficult at all to convince her to stay put at Netherfield,' he mused as he turned to reply to her.

"Something that has not happened to me for more years than I can remember, Miss Bingley – I got thrown off my horse." Darcy gave her a wan smile. "While the principal injury is to my pride, unfortunately, I did suffer some little damage to my right foot as well. I... ah... I do not believe I would be able to travel with you to London tomorrow," he added with a regretful shake of his head. For a fleeting moment Miss Bingley's faux caring expression was overridden by one of intense irritation, but she soon collected herself.

"Of course, we cannot dream of leaving you here by yourself, Mr Darcy! We all will go back to London only when you have recovered sufficiently," she replied cordially enough, even though her manner lost some of the effusion she had displayed earlier.

Darcy nodded his thanks and was relieved to see Banes entering the parlour. He opened his mouth to make his excuses to Miss Bingley but stopped as he heard her delightful musings reveal the extent of her concern for him.

"Oh, bother... now we will have to stay in this dreadful place some more time. Who would have thought that behind his tough exterior, Mr Darcy would be so... so lily livered? Refusing to travel for a... a minor injury like that... Unbelievable! A more chivalrous man would have easily borne a little discomfort, but no - not Mr Darcy... The only saving grace is that his injury will preclude any comings and goings from Netherfield and... hopefully we will be able to leave here in a day or two, before Charles completes his business in town. For one never knows with those Bennets..."

"Sir, I believe you should have this before we make an attempt to go upstairs to our chambers." Darcy forced his fascinated gaze away from Miss Bingley and saw the ever-thoughtful Banes holding out a tumbler with some port he found he suddenly had a dire need for.

Darcy smiled his appreciation and took the tumbler from Banes. 'So much for Miss Bingley's solicitous concern. Ah, well... I suppose I always knew that it is Pemberley and the benefits attached to the Darcy name that matter, not Fitzwilliam Darcy or his damaged foot,' he smirked as he took a large swallow and involuntarily closed his eyes in appreciation – completely oblivious to the danger brewing around him.

Miss Bingley was at that very moment was labouring under a lot of resentment - most of it directed at the man sitting in front of her. Who, to her intense annoyance, was calmly sipping port after so effortlessly wrecking her plans. This current disappointment was only the last one in a string of many that she now held against him. She had reconciled herself to staying in this rustic place only when she came to know that Mr Darcy had accepted her brother's invitation to come to Netherfield. Now that she had the proximity to him that she had always craved, she had been very optimistic of demonstrating to him, her suitability for the role of the mistress of Pemberley. Unfortunately, nothing - absolutely nothing - transpired as she had hoped. Mr Darcy did not seem much impressed by her many accomplishments. And to her added frustration, not only did he not exhibit any warm feelings towards her, but he also had the extremely poor taste to appreciate the 'fine eyes' and... and much more of that impertinent chit – Eliza Bennet. Oh, despite his many attempts to fight and conceal his attraction to that countrified Miss – Caroline Bingley had not been deceived.

She had a little resurgence of hope this morning when he had agreed with their assertions about Jane Bennet - and conceded to talk to her brother about the matter. 'Perhaps once we are back in London, away from the influence of the Bennets then maybe...' she had thought less than three hours ago. But no... even that was not to be. He was uncaring enough to get an injury when he knew – he knew how important it was to leave this place at the earliest!

When frustration rules, reason is the first casualty and that is what happened to Miss Bingley in this instance. What started with blaming a victim of an accident – at least that was what she believed befell Darcy - culminated in a strong desire to somehow get the better of the obstacles being continuously thrown her way. 'Perhaps this is for the best... and I can use this opportunity to my advantage,' she thought as she shot a quick resentful glare at Darcy before turning her head to stare out at the beautifully maintained gardens of Netherfield.

'I do not believe that Mr Darcy is ever going to realize how perfect I am for Pemberley and... of course, him... Perhaps it is time I assist him in making the right choice. It will be easy to convince Louisa to help me out in Charles' absence.' Caroline's lips tightened as she remembered her brother's advice to her some time back to forget about Mr Darcy and look elsewhere for a husband.Right at that moment Darcy took the last gulp of his drink and looked towards Miss Bingley – wholly unprepared for the shock coming his way.

"He is MY brother... but I am sure he would never believe that his saintly friend could even think about compromising me!' But Louisa... she will believe whatever I tell her... and she is naturally capable of loud caterwauling to attract all the servants in the vicinity when she finds me in Mr Darcy's bed chamber. I believe everything could easily be arranged by tomorrow night..." Darcy choked on his drink as soon as his appalled brain made sense of Miss Bingley's horrifying musings. That was the reason Miss Bingley's favourite, spotlessly cream carpet acquired an ugly stain that day - which never quite went away completely.

~~~Β§~~~

Darcy stared at the stain on the carpet in a dismayed silence, it was absolutely humiliating to have done something like this even if the shock he had received was a valid reason for the mishap. He reluctantly opened his mouth to apologize to Miss Bingley. When he glanced at the lady, he found her watching the slowly spreading stain on the carpet with a shocked expression. "My favorite carpet! And that... that man...just SPAT ON IT! He... spat on it? How... utterly... REVOLTING! How... how... VULGAR! How could I have ever thought this man an epitome of all things refined and manly? I must have been MAD!"

As Darcy listened to her angry ruminations and watched the ugly expressions flit over her face, he suddenly felt an almost insane desire to burst into a raucous laughter. He controlled himself with great difficulty. Had he known that it would be so easy to give Miss Bingley a disgust of himself, he would have tried the trick much earlier. 'The sheer audacity of the grasping, conniving, harpy to sit in judgement of a Darcy!' he thought in angry amazement. 'Shall I give a loud belch just to seal the deal or is the shrew already disgusted enough?' he asked himself in bitter amusement. Unfortunately for him, he was not to be let off so easily.

"What are you about Caroline? You cannot give up now. Think of all the drawing-rooms that the Darcy name opens as if by magic. Then think of all the Darcy riches - of Pemberley... of Lady Anne's diamond tiara! For all that I am sure you can even tolerate Mr Darcy spitting port on a few more of your carpets! So, brace yourself Caro... you need to put that plan in action tomorrow night."

Too appalled to continue listening to Miss Bingley's vile musings, Darcy looked away for her. He, therefore, missed the predatory look the lady directed towards him just then. But Banes, who had been staring at her angry face in consternation, did, and was filled with unease.

"Mr Darcy, are you ready to go upstairs?" he asked, suddenly quite eager to remove himself and his master from the parlour.

"Yes, Banes," Darcy replied with a weary nod then forced himself to address Miss Bingley without quite looking at her, "Miss Bingley... I apologize for spoiling your carpet, it was an accident..."

"Oh, please, Mr Darcy do not give it another thought, I am sure the stain will go once the carpet is properly cleaned," Miss Bingley assured him with an artificial smile.

'Oh, really? Then why don't I drop my mud-spattered handkerchief on the stain and stamp on it just to make sure it doesn't,' Darcy thought rather viciously then immediately caught himself. 'Oh, Lord, the harpy has got me behaving like a petulant three-year-old!' He took a deep, calming breath, then offered Miss Bingley a tight smile. "I hope so too, Miss Bingley. Please excuse me now, as I would like Banes to have a look at my foot," he said and then motioned to Banes to assist him.

Miss Bingley suddenly recollected that she had not espoused enough concern for Mr Darcy's wounded foot and immediately made amends. "I believe we should call the apothecary to have a look at your foot, Mr Darcy, it is not advisable to make light of such injuries."

For a long while, Darcy found himself incapable of speech and could only stare at Miss Bingley in disgusted wonder. "There is no need for that as Banes here is a wizard with his restorative poultice," he finally managed to say before he and Banes moved towards the door.

~~~Β§~~~

As the two men stepped out of the door, something made Banes look back at Miss Bingley. He found her staring at his master, and her expression disturbed him very much. "Oh, sweet Lord! that woman looked as if she would like to gobble Master William whole! I dunno why he never sees that she has her talons out for him and won't let go as long as he remains the master of Pemberley! I have a good mind to start the talk below-stairs that he is a hardened gamester who lost Pemberley just afore we came here!"

"And you have my blessings, Banes," muttered Darcy.

"Eh? Did you say something, sir?" A disconcerted Banes glanced at him askance.

"Er... yes... I said bless you, Banes... for your kind assistance," Darcy improvised, mentally kicking himself for once again forgetting about his 'power'.

"Thank you, sir," Banes mumbled, although he still appeared preoccupied, and Darcy soon realized why. "That look on her face... that woman is up to no good. But she has not accounted for good ol' Banes... she can't know that whenever we stay in such perilous households, Master William's chamber doors never open from outside... no, sir, they don't." Darcy was then surprised to hear Banes give a soft cackle and involuntarily his lips also curved into a faint smile. Some of the gloom that had settled over him after the fracas with Miss Bingley, lifted - if there were Miss Bingleys in the world with their knives drawn out, then there was Banes too, watching his back, without any consideration. 'If only I could ask Banes how he identifies these perilous households.'

As soon as the door of his bedchamber closed behind them. Darcy straightened and gently disentangled himself from his valet.

"Shall I call the apoth..." Banes stopped abruptly as he saw Darcy walking away perfectly well without assistance.

"Sir?" he asked hesitantly.

Darcy would have had to tell Banes the truth as the valet would have seen for himself that there was no injury to his foot, but now he wanted Banes to know the truth.

"There is no need for an apothecary or even a poultice, Banes, as I do not have an injury. But I think it would be for the best if you get one prepared in the kitchen – to keep up the appearances, so to speak," Darcy said and found the valet regarding him with an impassive expression.

"I faked the injury, as I do not want us to leave this place without Bingley's knowledge as Miss Bingley would have us do because..." Darcy floundered a little.

"Ah... yes, all the staff below stairs knows why Miss Bingley wants to quit Netherfield with such urgency, sir. She and Mrs Hurst were not exactly whispering when they were talking to you this morning," Banes said dryly.

"Hmm... and what are the views of the staff below stairs regarding the same?" To his surprise Darcy found himself asking his valet. Three hours ago, he would not have dreamed of asking such a thing of Banes, but somehow it felt quite natural just now.

"I would not presume to know what everyone thinks about the matter, sir. But what I can tell you is that all the local staff at Netherfield hold Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth in much affection, unlike... ah..."

"Miss Bingley," Darcy completed with a wry smile. "Well, then, I believe I made the right choice, Banes. What now needs to be done is for you get me into some clean clothes and get that poultice prepared."

"Yes, sir," Banes murmured as he made his way towards the dressing room. "You sure made the right choice, Master William. Anything to spoil that harpy's game. But what I would really like to know is why a person who I never heard tell even a small falsehood should involve himself in this charade?"

'You will not believe me if I tell you, Banes,' Darcy grinned as he sat down on a chair. For a moment his mind dwelt on a problem that had been nagging at him for a while. 'How am I to go to Longbourn tomorrow if my foot is supposedly injured?' However, when no solution came to mind for a while, he gave up on it. 'I will think of something later on.' He leaned back on the chair on that thought and closed his eyes.

~~~Β§~~~

A Little Magic

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